


A Circular Re-education

by pokey_jr



Series: Only Sequences Change [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor licking things, Cunnilingus, F/M, and loves it, connor eats pussy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 16:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15343740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokey_jr/pseuds/pokey_jr
Summary: Distantly, you recall the exchange that precipitated all this:“Do you actually taste things? Like flavors and stuff?”“I do have taste receptors, yes. Many of the samples I analyze at crime scenes have an unpleasant flavor...”This is really all his fault. He started it, unwittingly perhaps, with his penchant for licking things at crime scenes. And now you’re here, arching to his mouth and moaning his name.**Connor needs to stop licking things to 'analyze' them, because it's unbearably distracting.





	A Circular Re-education

“I’ll need you to tell me, Detective, if anything I do displeases you. While I am able to sense your vital stats and so forth, it’s not a complete picture.” He settles on his knees in front of you. You can’t quite believe this is happening, you’ve fantasized about it for weeks. Weeks of him driving you crazy. And being mostly oblivious to his effect on you.

Or so you thought.

He puts his hands on your knees— hands that feel real, warm, but not as warm as your skin— and spreads them. Gentle, yet firm.  
“For example, do you enjoy a lighter touch?” He kisses the inside of your thigh.

You huff out a giggle without meaning to. “That’s—it tickles.”

“Not so light, then.” 

“Connor, have you ever—?” You break off, breath hitching as he works his way up higher, your arousal building with each slow, deliberate touch.

“Performed oral sex? No.”

“Then how…”  
He tugs at the waistband of your panties. “I’ll need you to remove these, please.”

You lift your hips and he pulls them down, all the way off, and places them neatly beside him. You’ll have to show him eventually that it’s acceptable to throw them over one’s shoulder in the heat of the moment. He pauses again to study you, nuzzles your thigh, watching your reactions all the while: your entire body flushed with desire, your breath coming in little moans of anticipation, the way you slouch further down on the couch. As much as you want to grab his hair and ride his face, you won’t. You’re just as curious as he is; you want to see what he does, how he catalogs every part of this experience.

He smiles up at you, open and genuine. “May I?”

The answer is an enthusiastic ‘yes’. And you have the unique, wonderful privilege of watching the first time he ever tastes pussy. That little pink tongue out, and he’s not shy of course, but you can see the curiosity as he processes, just the same as his distracting way of analyzing blood samples at crime scenes.

The LED on his right temple flickers blue to yellow. Spinning.

With one slow, continuous movement—infuriatingly, exquisitely slow-- he draws his tongue up the length of your wet slit, observes the way it makes you shiver and exhale in delight. And somehow knows to flick his tongue at the top. And again.

It takes all your willpower not to buck your hips and your desperation comes out— _ohhh fuck, Connor_ — and you grab his forearm, which is wrapped around your thigh.

His eyes widen and he hums. He likes that. He readjusts his arm, hitching your leg over his shoulder. “I take it that was good?” He asks before swirling his tongue around your clit.

Goddamnit, he _knows_ it was, and you want to tell him that smug isn’t a good look for him but you can’t speak. Can hardly _think_ , and he really has no business being so good at this. Perfect, like he is in every other respect.

He laps at the sensitive flesh, deliberate and controlled, if a bit messy. He doesn’t mind that you’ve begun to rock against his face. He holds you where he wants you, until he raises his head. “Am I going too fast?”

You shake your head. “No, but…” his hand at your waist squeezes a little, and he slows even more, anyway, nuzzling your thighs and seeming to delight in drawing little moans from you.

“Connor?” There’s a tremble in your voice, and desire persists, low and hot.

“Hmm?”

“Do you get— can you get aroused doing this?” Is that even possible? 

You hadn’t wanted him to stop, hadn’t really expected an answer but he gives you one by sitting back on his heels so you can see the bulge in his jeans.

A fresh shock of desire shoots through your core. You did that. You had that effect on him. He looks down, mildly surprised with himself, then back at you. His mouth glistens with your wetness. And, holding your gaze, he licks his lips.

_Fuck_. You give a sort of helpless sound.

He sucks his index finger in his mouth, then presses it into your slick cunt. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

It is, and at the same time it’s not _enough_ , and you voice that, along with the accusation that he’s teasing you, which he ignores. He experiments with alert curiosity, and when he finds that perfect spot, curling his finger up, he lowers his mouth again to lick your clit. He’s relentless, and languid, all at his own pace, luxuriating in you.

Distantly, you recall the exchange that precipitated all this: _“Do you actually taste things? Like flavors and stuff?”_

_“I do have taste receptors, yes. Many of the samples I analyze at crime scenes have an unpleasant flavor...”_

This is really all his fault. He started it, unwittingly perhaps, with his penchant for licking things at crime scenes. And now you’re here, arching to his mouth and moaning his name.

You finally grab his hair, desperate, unraveling at the edges. The two of you watch each other from up and down the length of your body. You hold his eyes as long as you can, and he studies your face intently, fascinated, until at last, tries one more new thing. Places his mouth over you clit and kisses it, swirling his tongue, a little suction and--

“ohhh fuck Connor _please._ ”

Raw, searing pleasure overwhelms you. With a pleading cry you throw your head back, eyes slipping shut as you cum. Clenching around his fingers, pushing up, rolling your hips, clamping your thighs around his head. His hand grips your waist harder, a reassuring weight, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t mind that you’re pulling his hair too hard. He lets you ride out your climax sweet and long and deep until you’re in the shallows again, drifting and sated.

Eventually he withdraws his fingers, sits back. Your breathing evens out, and you raise an eyebrow at him when he touches the tips of his fingers to his tongue.

“Old habits die hard,” he says, shooting you a mischievous smile, and you have to wonder how oblivious he really was to the effects of that distracting habit in the first place.


End file.
